That’s what I’ll remember most
When I leave Manhattan.
Ugly, rusting bulkheads
That should be hidden in cellars,
Crowning the old buildings.
Silly, Chinamen’s hats or
Chilled nipples
Top the long narrow,
short, squat families
of rough-seamed
cylinders:
Raw, ironwork platforms.
Protruding pipes.
Disgusting stains.
The penultimate statements
New York’s regal structures
mumble.
July 1988